‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’ Luke 12:34
The bluebells were over, now drowned in green grass seas,
And the stream that through the woodland wound
Spoke to me of where it came, but knew not its final ease,
Nor knew it when or where would be my resting ground.
In aerated whispers it lulled me to its source,
A spring far away and residing in arboreal gloam,
I listened to its voice, and barefoot followed its course,
And distanced myself from what was known as home.
No ancient structure marked the spring as a holy place,
No coloured bands of linen hung from the trees above;
Of human hand there was neither vestige nor trace,
Subsumed in nature’s undisclosed purity it was thereof.
But some form of being resided there unseen,
Void of substance, its presence the words of water;
Old, as of the land, was this veiled Undine,
Who beckoned me to enter, with ne’er fear nor falter.
Damp was the hollow, runnels of speech echoed there,
Telling me things I did not know, and of things forgotten,
Of tales remembered and told, hanging dank in the air,
Of places dreamt but never known, always unbegotten.
And then a change came o’er the spirit of the scene;
In aqueous tones my Undine bade me close my eyes,
And see with mind alone, as if this place were but a dream,
To trade my sight for insight, and reside beneath other skies.
Darkness turned to light and with a colour never seen,
And a touch ne’er felt, my feet seemed to fall upon new ground,
Where a meadow showed itself when it should not have been,
So that I mused upon what unknown Elysium I had found.
Dulcet sounds that no human ear had heard filled the air,
Scents that defied an order, charged the filtered breeze,
And a taste reached my lips, rich, unworldly and rare;
I took myself, I know not how, down into the faerie trees.
And there I saw, but not with my eyes, a golden sylph,
Amidst the trees, which grew as if rooted in the air,
Above an undergrowth of silken thicket of no tilth,
And in her silent voice she enjoined me to prepare.
Then she showed me an Eden, before me spread;
It was a new Heaven and a new Earth. And then she said:
‘Stay here, stay here in Paradise, where you are free,
Stay, you’re here to stay, stay here with me.’
But to see her clear I opened my eyes, and she passed away,
The new world was replaced by old and in the stream I laid,
Gasping for breath, and somehow I knew this was a future day,
Time had quickened whilst I was away, and I became a shade.
I slipped below the water, but as I did, I saw a light,
The same as in that Otherworld, luminous and bright;
Conception and rebirth were mine within a womb,
Just as the first bluebells were beginning to bloom.
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The cover image is original artwork by Victoria Darcy.
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Dead but Dreaming the novel is available now.
deadbutdreaming 